


Made to love

by AchillesLament (11Mydesign11)



Category: Charlie Countryman (2013), Evening (2007), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: #EveningDogs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But during Evening, Dancing, Drinking, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Jealous Nigel (Charlie Countryman), M/M, Protective Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Second Chances, Self-Denial, Set after Charlie Countryman, Slow Burn, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 02:10:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13847871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/11Mydesign11/pseuds/AchillesLament
Summary: When Buddy Wittenborn loves, he does so with every fiber of his being - so does Nigel. Much to their dismay, neither one of them have had much luck in that department. What happens with their paths cross unintentionally? Were they made to love or destined to crash and burn?





	Made to love

**Author's Note:**

> I normally write with a writing partner, but have had this solo story sitting in my google docs for a while. It's my hope that it's well received. Nonetheless, thank you for reading and enjoy! :-)

 

 Stumbling through the woods, Buddy clutched desperately to the soaking wet, tattered reminder of a love rejected; his love for Ann Grant. He also had feelings for the handsome doctor of medicine, Harris Arden, both being implausible things. He had loved her forever it felt like, keeping the now destroyed note she’d written him in his pocket daily and it hadn’t mattered; she didn’t want him she wanted _Harris_ and he wasn’t sure _who_ he was more jealous over.

Buddy was a romantic, but right now as he clumsily chased after the pair, all he wanted to do was apologize. He wanted to apologize for his drunken stupor, for putting her on the spot, for not being hero enough - so many things he wanted to say he was sorry for and it was consuming his inebriated mind. So caught up he was in his thoughts and in his pursuit that he didn’t even notice the black mustang that was heading right for him, right up until the moment that he _did_.

Whoever was driving slammed on the brakes, because Buddy heard the squelch  and watched as the car veered hard to the right, missing him by only an inch. Before he could react, a gruff man got out of the driver’s side and  stalked over, shoulders squared and danger radiating off of him.

“Hey! You need to watch where the _fuck_ you are walking!” the angry man growled, his jaw tight and eyes practically crimson.

The harsh words finally shook a stunned Buddy out of his trance, though not out of his inebriation. “That _would_ help, wouldn’t it?” he laughed, gesturing in a careless manner. He’d lost the two loves of his life in one night, what difference did it make what happened now?

It seemed only the man more. “Do you have a fucking death wish, kid?” the driver spat, his teeth flashing dangerous by the bright glow of the headlights.

Before Buddy could answer - before he could tell him that he had nothing to live for - he suddenly bent over, throwing up right there next to where they stood. The stranger backed up, avoiding it narrowly and ran a scarred hand through his ashen locks, uttering curses in his native tongue.

“Sorry, sorry,” Buddy slurred, righting himself, and wiping his mouth on his suit - the suit that was still soaked from his dip in the water earlier.

“Goddamn. Well good luck with uh, whatever, and next time keep your eyes where you’re fucking walking, yeah? The next person who almost runs you over might not be so fucking nice,” the older man pointed out, turning on his heel to leave. He didn’t have time to be dealing with a belligerent fool, he wanted to go back to his townhouse and get that way himself.

“She doesn’t love me… neither one of them; not how I love them,” Buddy called out, looking at the mushy note and putting it back into his suit pants. He watched then as the man stopped in his tracks and turned back around.

“I beg your pardon, what?”

Buddy walked, as best as he could, back over to him. “Neither one of them love me,” he reiterated, as if this man should have simply known what or who he was talking about. He placed his hands on his arm, more for balance than anything, and looked at him in the eyes, his own red from wine, tears, and salt water. “All I have is the note, nothing more, but she’ll remember me, one day. They both will.”

“Let’s...put a pin in the fucking love story for now, shall we? Let’s start this way. I’m Nigel, who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Buddy, Buddy Wittenborn, the non-hero and drunkard of the family. Pleased to meet you, Nigel,” he snickered, sticking his shaky hand out in offering.

Nigel stared at Buddy incredulously and took his hand, shaking firmly before letting go. It was good this kid was too drunk to notice the splattered blood on his cream colored shirt. “Is that right? Well heroes never held much interest to me any fucking way.”

What started out as a laugh quickly faded, turning into more tears as Buddy looked at the other man. It was almost a silent plea. He just wanted to pain to stop, which was why he drank, and often - that and he wasn’t sure who he wanted more between his two unrequited loves. “They do for some,” he answered finally, rubbing his hands over his face with a sigh. He was usually a light-hearted person, at least outwardly.

 _What the fuck?_ Nigel asked himself. It was then that he really took in the man in front of him, not a bad looking guy, more gorgeous than most of the birds he’d fucked really; he was masculine but with a certain feminine beauty to his features. His thoughts were cut off when Buddy started to stumble away, heading off towards wherever the fuck he had been going originally. Nigel was torn, on one hand, he was feeling a sort of relatable need to help this kid out, keep him from getting ran over or some shit, but on the other, he wasn’t one to give a fuck.

Buddy was only a few feet from where he’d been when he felt a strong hand on his bicep, swinging him around and then another on the other to steady him. “What are you doing?” he asked, realizing Nigel had stopped him.

“Stopping you from getting ran over or making an ass out of yourself, apparently,” the Romanian answered. He’d decided one good deed for a love sick drunk wouldn’t take too much time out of his otherwise unoccupied night.

Buddy raised up a pointed finger, preparing to protest, when the ground began to move. “You can’t--”

Suddenly everything went black.

Nigel had caught him, uttering a slew of curse words at the situation. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have given a fuck,” he muttered to himself as he hoisted the man up in his arms and carried him to his car.  After placing him in the passenger seat, he got in himself, and drove off. He’d need to have the car detailed yet again.

***

Buddy woke up to golden rays of sunlight peeking through unfamiliar blinds and stretched; his head was pounding and his mouth was dry. Looking around he expected to be in his own bed, but he wasn’t, he was somewhere else and upon looking down, realized he was no longer in the same clothing. He jerked up when he heard footsteps approaching.

“Mornin’ gorgeous,” Nigel greeted, handing Buddy a cup of coffee, who then took it a bit skeptically.

“What am I doing here?” Buddy asked, looking up at the man in the hideous dog patterned shirt. He took a slow sip of the coffee, after blowing on it, feeling relief as the warm liquid coated his dry throat.

“Don’t remember, eh?” Nigel laughed, sitting down next to him on bed. “You passed the fuck out, and I brought you here since I didn’t know where the fuck else to take you.”

As Buddy looked down at the baggy sweatpants and tank top he was wearing, the events of last night’s bender started to come back. “Goddamn. I’m sorry, I won’t inconvenience you further,” he answered, starting to wiggle towards the edge of the king sized bed. The place was surprisingly well decorated, minimal but nothing cheap or tacky...it was nice, Nigel clearly had money.

Holding up his hand, Nigel shook his head. “Finish your coffee. I can drive you back in a little while,” he insisted, lighting up a cigarette that he’d pulled from his shirt pocket.

Nodding, Buddy leaned back against the headboard. “Can I get one of those?”

“Sure, why not.”

After lighting one, he passed it to Buddy who took it graciously.

“Thank you...for everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” Nigel replied with a grin. Looking at Buddy up close and in the daylight, he was able to _really_ take in the other man’s beauty. He had been right, the kid really was fucking gorgeous and he couldn’t comprehend why, not one but _two_ people rejected someone who looked like that. Nigel, while he mostly stuck to women, was no stranger to the occasional need for something rough and hard. He didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought of him. Besides, they weren’t as uptight about that shit in Romania as they seemed to be in the States.

Taking in a long pull from his cigarette, Buddy looked over at Nigel. This strange foreigner with his tattoos and his scars, was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, and he’d saved his life.  Granted, he’d also almost ran him over, but that was his own fault. Shaking that thought off--he wasn’t _that_ way, he tried to convince himself - another question popped into his head. “So if I slept in the bed, where did you sleep?”

The truth was Buddy wasn’t sure of his sexual identity. He had loved Ann since they were kids, and at the same time had a crush on Harris, he’d kissed Harris, just last night. But still he wasn’t positive if what he felt for Harris was normal or if it meant he liked men too. People could love their friends right?

Nigel snorted, and flicked his ashes into the ashtray on the nightstand. “I slept on the couch. Don’t worry, I prefer the people I fuck to be willing participants,” he explained, scratching the stubble on his face. The more they talked, the more he was starting to decide he might just keep this heart-broken beauty around. Maybe. Nigel supposed he saw a kindred spirit in Buddy, they’d both had their heart broken, albeit in different ways.

Taking another few gulps of his coffee, Buddy sat the mug on the coaster. “You’re blunt aren’t you?” he laughed, his usual care-free mask slipping back into place. “In any case, I am grateful.”

“I say what’s on my mind, and tend to skip the fucking formalities,” Nigel agreed. “Like I said though, don’t mention it.” Stubbing the cigarette out, he met Buddy’s eyes, fuck those eyes were hypnotic. “So last night, you mentioned you were in love with two people? Sounds like quite the woeful fucking story.”

Buddy had forgotten _that_ part. “Oh, well...one...she doesn’t feel the same way,” he said, shrugging as if he was right as rain and _not_ devastated. He was starting to want another drink.

“Yeah, I gathered that, and the other?” Nigel asked, raising a barely there brow. Buddy didn’t want to talk about the crush - or whatever it was - that he had on Harris, especially not to someone who looked like Nigel, even if he was calling him gorgeous.

“Just drunken nonsense, but um, this is a nice place, I noticed you haven’t completely unpacked. Are you new to Newport?” Buddy inquired. He wanted to change the subject, the other wasn’t one he was comfortable speaking of at all.

Nigel saw this, naturally, he was pretty good at reading people. He had to be in his line of work, never knew who he could trust, so mostly he just didn’t. “Haven’t been here too fucking long, about three months. Just haven’t had the time to unpack I guess, business matters and what not.” The Romanian had secrets of his own. He looked at Buddy with renewed interest, sizing him up, he obviously came from money, he had that look about him.

“Where are you from? I gather you’re not an American,” Buddy laughed, his humor kicking in a bit more since Nigel had thankfully let the former subject drop.

“And here I thought my Rhode Island accent was spot on.” Nigel grinned, all sharp pointed teeth exposed. “I’m from Bucharest, Romania.”

“Never been there. My family and I have summered in Paris before though.” It was a perfectly normal, natural thing for Buddy. He’d grown up wealthy, and while he wasn’t arrogant, it often slipped his mind that his upbringing wasn’t the same as everyone else’s. “Got any scotch or whiskey?”

Just as Nigel had thought, the kid was from a well to do family and while the blond made his own way now, and earned a damn good living, he’d been poor as a child. “Paris huh? The city of love and all that. Never been,” he answered, honestly. “Don’t you think it’s a little fucking early to be drinking, especially after last night?”

“This is Newport, here we start early,” Buddy winked. Again, trying to downplay what he was really feeling inside. All of those gut wrenching memories from the night before swirling thickly in his mind.

Nigel grinned at that. Buddy was too much, and far too gorgeous. It had been a while since Nigel had seriously been attracted to someone in this capacity, sure he’d fucked here and there but that was that. He hadn’t found anyone so interesting since... Gabi. His darling Gabi, who’d cheated on him with that runty cunt rat-faced motherfucking Charlie Countryman. “Your clothes, or suit rather is dry and hanging over the shower curtain,” Nigel said, set on not getting Buddy drunk. Nigel wasn’t about to babysit again.

Taking the hint, Buddy nodded and got up with a another cat like stretch. “Thanks.”

Nigel nodded in return, watching him as he walked into the bathroom, taking notice of the way his round ass jiggled as he walked.

A few minutes later and Buddy emerged, back in his now wrinkled suit. “I better get going. I can call a cab, you’ve done enough for me already,” he said with a smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime, we can get a drink?”

Nigel stood up, and offered him a wolfish grin. He thought about insisting on taking him home, but he had shit to do anyways. “Alright, as you wish then. A drink? Alright, how about tonight?”

Buddy hadn’t expected that, he had meant the offer, but he and Nigel didn’t seem to have much in common persay. Still, he was interesting, handsome, and seemed to be pretty direct. “Sure. I can call you when I’m ready, if you give me your number?”  His tone was almost coy; he was a natural flirt, even when he didn’t mean to be. In this instance, he wasn’t sure if it had been intentional or not, but in any event he could use some company, a friend.

“Yeah? Sounds fucking good to me,” Nigel rumbled, walking a few paces closer, watching Buddy’s every move, trying to feel him out, so to speak.

“Do you like to dance? I love to dance and there’s a dance club in the city that I’ve been wanting to go to, what do you say?” Buddy had wanted to go with Ann, but she had refused as usual. He thought Nigel might be more the type, besides, being somewhere public and crowded would keep him from doing something he might regret.

“No, I don’t fucking dance, darling, but we can go,” Nigel answered, leaning over to write his number down on a piece of paper. He walked closer, only a few feet from Buddy now and handed it over which he took, licking his lips at the close proximity. The young man wasn’t used to being flirted with so brazenly, or the pet names. He almost asked Nigel what was up with that, but decided not to in the end.

“Sounds good. I’ll call you when I’m ready, and give you my address. I guess probably close to eight.” Buddy needed to apologize to Ann and Harris, and to let his parents know he was alright, he hadn’t even checked his cell phone yet, but he was sure that they’d tried to call a dozen times or more by now when he hadn’t returned home last night.

“I’ll be expecting your call then, but don’t make me wait, hm?” Nigel winked, giving a cheeky smile, and then moved away to grab Buddy’s phone, which he handed over. “You almost lost this last night, so I set it aside.”

“Oh, shit, thanks, Nigel,” Buddy blushed, and then used it to call a cab, which didn’t take long. Once the taxi arrived, the brunet left. Nigel, in the meantime, had shit to do, but he made sure to follow that cab to find out where the boy lived, discreetly.

***

Eight rolled around and Nigel was dressed in a sharp all black suit, no tie but he cut a good figure. He walked on the balcony and lit up a smoke, waiting to hear from the blue eyed beauty. By the time he was finished it was fifteen past eight and the Romanian was growing annoyed. He sent Buddy a text and nothing; _no one_ stood up Nigel Dalca. Nine rolled around and he got into his car - an all black mustang - then headed to Buddy’s.

Nigel parked back under some trees close to where he’d almost ran the kid over, since he knew now that it was close to Buddy’s home, and got out, stealthily traversing across the terrain. It was dark, and that combined with his black suit made for excellent cover. Besides, most rich people were too worried about what dress or suit someone was wearing than who might be out hidden in the shadows.

It didn’t take Nigel long to find a good spot to watch from, and after a few minutes, he saw Buddy walking out of the house, with a man. Presumably that fuck Harvey? Harold? No, Harris. Nigel whispered the name to himself, hissing like a dangerous snake waiting to strike. He didn’t like how the man touched Buddy’s arm, or how Buddy laughed. Scrubbing a hand over over his face and through his hair, Nigel decided that _fuck this_ and fuck Buddy Wittenborn.

He went back to his mustang. The truth was, he was pissed, but there were no ties really, not feelings. It stung mostly because Nigel had gone to all that trouble to help him, only to be stood up for one of the fucks the boy had been crying over. Ungrateful little spoiled cunt, Nigel murmured to himself as he got into his vehicle, lighting up a much needed smoke. As he drove back to his place, he asked himself why the fuck he even cared. He didn’t need anyone anyway. Gabi had ripped out his heart and maybe that was just fine.

Later that night as Nigel laid in bed, he cursed those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to dance around in his head.

_Fuck._


End file.
